


Bloom

by Whoops_heck



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Sad Ending, why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-17 23:48:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10604862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoops_heck/pseuds/Whoops_heck
Summary: "The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals."Akaashi should have known better, when the first petal left his lips. He should have known that Bokuto would be the death of him.





	1. Chapter 1

You made flowers take root in the depths of my soul. And although they are beautiful, I can no longer breath. Vines crawl up my air way until i'm left coughing up blood stained petals. 

So in copious amounts I swallow alcohol like weed remover, in an attempt to kill the flowers that bloom within me. Deep down I know it won't kill them but it allows me to forget.

Forget that my body is a garden planted by you.

You never did have a green thumb though, so perhaps I'm not a garden but merely the fern in the corner of your hallway dying slowly. That seems more accurate.

As petals accumulate deep within my respiritory system I come to the conclusion that I'm ought to die soon. It's just a matter of when.

When the original color of the petals is hidden by blood.

When I can't stop the shaking of my hands as roots scrape at my throat.

When the florist next door would be jealous of the flowers sprouting within my chest.

When?

When will it all just end?

I continue to weed the garden developing in my lungs, in hopes that maybe one day you'll love me back.

Until then I'm left alone, full of blood, pollen, and the petals of a man who will never love me the way I love him.

\-----------

I should have known. 

I should have told him before it was too late. 

I should have done anything.

Instead I hit his sets, patted him on the back, and ignored the sickness swelling inside of him. My dear Akaashi, how I loved you. A raging inferno swirled in my gut, nothing like butterflies at all. But i'm caving in. Gripping at wings taking flight deep within me.

They say that it's impossible to get Hanahaki for a dead person.

As primrose petals laced with blood fall, Bokuto realizes just how wrong they are.


	2. I can't live without you

"Koutarou sweety, we need to talk."

His mother's voice was sweet but her eyes betrayed her. Sadness laced within golden eyes that mirrored his perfectly.

What had happened? Where we moving? Did she get fired? Maybe I have to quit volleyball, oh god don't think like that Bokuto. It's nothing. What if I failed my English test? It's probably just that.

"Honey something's happened."

"What do yo-"

"It's about Akaashi."

At the mention of the quiet setter his head snapped up and thoughts flitted through his mind.

He had missed a few practices recently, was he quitting? Oh god, what would we do? I suppose one of the first years could step in, it'd be an adjustment that's for sure. Don't get ahead of yourself, Jesus. Just listen to her.

"What's going on?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"He's gone."

His thoughts ran a mile a minute.

Where had he gone? Wait why is she crying? Oh god, oh god. No, wiat this is a joke. This can't be real can it? No it can't be... It's not what you think it's not what you think it's not what you think. Please don't be what I think.

"What?"

His voice cracked and splintered releasing the lake that hid behind golden eyes. Tears began to fall and he made no move to wipe them.

"Hanahaki, he had hanahaki disease."

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god... Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't- how long? Oh my god, no no no! This can't be happening. Mom please, he can't be dead!"

Warm arms wrapped around him far too similair to those of a friend not long dead.

A voice whispered in his mind, "Remain calm Bokuto-san, there's no need to cry."

And yet he did. He cried until there were no tears left and at that point dry sobs racked his entire frame. 

He lost weight, he lost muscle, he didn't eat. He didn't move. Despite his mother's desperate pleas and attempts he didn't speak. 

The silence shook the house more than Bokuto's loud imposing voice ever had.

He could hear his mother crying at night and his already tender heart began breaking once again.

The first time Hanahaki hit him was in a wave. His stomach doubled over and the trash can at his local cafe filled with primroses and blood. Strangers gave him pitying looks and Bokuto just wanted to dissapear. 

When he arrived back at the booth to the smiling faces of his friends they charged him concerns to which he just cracked a joke about lactose intolerance. It was taken as he had expected it to, with laughs and grins. He just tried to laugh along.

Under the table he looked to his phone for the meaning of the flowers, already knowing what he'd find.

"Generally primroses mean 'I can't live without you' and 'loss"

\-----

"Mom?"

"Yah honey?"

"I'd like to get the surgery."

"What are you talking about?"

This was the most her son had said in over a week and as relieved as she was, fear seaped back.

"Hanahaki disease, I want to get rid of it."

She turned towards him taking his face in her hands. Gentle thumbs tracing over dried tear marks. His eyes were still red and puffy, her poor son hadn't spent a day without crying in so long. 

It had felt like a lifetime since his laughter rang through the house.

"Why don't you just tell them sweetheart?"

"Because," he paused and the moment hung in the air like dew, stealing away her breath "he's dead mom."

\-----

To my dearest Akaashi. The one to whom I owe both my life and my demise, 

I miss you. 

I miss you more than I even thought possible. Your grave is covered in flowers and it makes me want to scream. 

But, I don't. 

I sit and think about everything you went through.

My time has come, not in the sense that yours did but the life that I once lived is going to be gone. You've seen the people, the ones who forcefully removed any trace of petals from their lungs, that's going to be me.

Wandering around like a zombie, with no trace of you in my memory. Maybe that would be better though, I won't have to feel this pain anymore.

I suppose this is my last will and testament as Bokuto Koutarou.

To my mother I give everything I have. My love, my life, even the bouquet that grows within me. Although I suppose that's awfully unsanitary and you never did like flowers. I don't blame you.

To my team, I give to you the last words of the man you knew to be your captain, it matters, what we've been doing it matters, it won't matter any less when I'm gone and I expect you to prove that to everyone.

And finally, to whomever visits me in the hospital during my recovery

Please don't bring me flowers.

Sincerely,  
The Bokuto Koutarou I wish I could always be, yet we all know will dissapear along with the flowers within my chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My language is angst and i'm fluent, for that i apologise


	3. Wither.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto has a bad day.
> 
> His mother has a worse one.

I'm forgetting something.

Or rather, I'm forgetting someone.

I just simply cannot put my finger on it. Spending the time I should be focusing on class to figure out who fills this blank in my memory. 

I've asked my mother, only to be responded to with hastily wiped tears and muttered 'i'm sorry's'. I get that reaction quite a lot these days.

There's a girl I've seen who sparked a memory deep within my chest. Something about her seemed so... familiar. I couldn't place it, but as soon as our eyes met she was scurrying the other way. I decided following her wouldn't help and neither would asking questions, seeing how that had been going thus far.

It's frustrating to say the least, knowing something's wrong but not being able to do anything about it.

Pills I can't recall when I started taking have become routine. Maybe they always were. I can't remember.

Sometimes I'll fall into coughing fits and my mother will rush to my side with a cup of water. She'll rub circles into my back and squeeze her eyes tight with each deep cough that emerges from the core of my chest. 

She's scared.

Either for me or of me. I can't decide which is worse.

\-----

"We would like to get a scan of his lungs done again before making any rash decisions."

"Rash? I'm sorry I didn't know wanting to keep my son alive is rash. My mistake doctor."

She spat the words full of contempt for the woman on the other line.

"Please calm down m'am."

"I think I'm perfectly calm considering my situation."

Bokuto listened intently from behind the corner. He had never heard his mother use this time before. At least not in the conflicting memories held tight in a safe that just won't fully open. It's contents squeezing through the cracks just enough to make out rough memories.

She was pacing, the phone carelessly left on speaker.

"You can schedule another surgery if you'd like but we need another scan first."

"Well I thought this was a one time thing. Ine surgery than we can forget about the whole thing."

The woman on the other line sighs loudly, "There was a complication. We've been over this."

"Complication my ass, you just want to squeeze as much money as you can form us don't you."

"Do you want to schedule another appointmrnt or not?"

"Fine, when's the next available time?"

"Tomorrow at six, he can have the scan then and we'll see once the results are in."

"Alright, thank you Doctor."

\-----

It had been a bad day.

A really, really bad day.

From the moment Bokuto woke up he was unresponsive. Bags lined his eyes and the silent tears that cascaded down his cheeks sounded alarms in his mother's head.

Although nearly a month and a halg ago, it seemed like only days had passed since she had seen him in such a state. When the planter of the flowers within his lungs had died.

All day her son layed in his bed eyes glued to the ceiling.

Each of his siblings filed in trying to get him to talk. The only reaction any got from him was a warm hand on the trembling shoulder of his youngest sister. She had started crying. 

Hours upon hours later he finally made his move.

"Mom?"

It was loud, louder than his voice had been in months; in a silent house it was impossible to miss. Hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway as his door was slammed open.

"Yes honey?"

She cupped his face in her shaking hands. 

When had they started doing that?

He couldn't remember, but he could remember one thing. For once he could remember something and it made him want to scream with joy. But he didn't. He sat and stared at the ceiling processing the cruel turn of events. The one thing he remembered didn't seem to make any sense.

As she wiped away tears forming in his eyes he lifted his head making eye contact with his mother.

"Who's Akaashi?"

As soon as he muttered the name an urge overcame him. His stomach seemed to bounce around inside of his diaphragm sending the poor boy hurling into the trash can beside his bed. 

With wide eyes and frantic movements his mother ran for the phone.

He continued to throw up the contents of his stomach which looked an awful lot like flowers. 

Flowers and blood.

Lots and lots of blood. By the time his mother came back in the room it felt as if his throat was on fire as the taste of iron coated his tounge. The smell alone sent him into another fit of coughing out primrose and pollen.

"911 what is your emergency?"

"My sons got Hanahaki. Late stages. I need an ambulance at 1800 Westerburg street."

"Ok, an ambulance is on it's way."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you."

She hung up the phone and went over to sooth her suffering son. The sheer amount of blood in the trash can was concerning but what really held her attention were the petals accompanying the red liquid.

Petals she had convinced herself didn't exist anymore.

She prayed they didn't.

"Mom, who's Akaashi?"

Another fit of coughing pushed up the roots embossed into his letheary soul out into the trash can.

"You loved him."

No use in lying now. She hugged him tight to her chest not minding the blood staining her sweater, though hyper aware of her son's ragged breathing becoming more difficult.

"Come on Koutarou, breath with me. In... Out....In...Out."

"I love you mom."

"No Koutarou, don't say that. Don't say that now. You're going to make it."

They stayed like that for a few moments before in pained breaths Bokuto made out a question.

"Did he love me back?"

"What do yo-"

"Akaashi, did he love me back?"

She paused clutching her son tight.

"Yes, yes he did."

"Thank you mom, I love you."

"No Koutarou. Listen to me. Please no, stay with me please. Don't you dare close your eyes. Kou please. Please. Oh god please don't do this to me."

Her muttering turned into sobs as the breath left her son. She clutched him to her chest and let angry screams tear through her. Tears streamed furiously down her cheeks.

Her only son was gone.

He was dead.

Another fit of sobs hit her. This time like the impact of a train. Hard, fast, unexpected and excruciating.

What was she to do?

What was she to do now that he was gone?

 

Wither.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment!


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